


A Lesson In Patience

by Thanatopsiturvy



Series: The 36 Lessons of Teldryn Sero: Nerevarine [2]
Category: Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind
Genre: Anal Sex, Argonians (Elder Scrolls), Canon-Typical Racism, Lizard Man Hotte, M/M, Morag Tong, Morrowind Main Quest, Nerevarine!Teldryn, Overstimulation, Porn With Plot, Stretching, Teldryn Learns a Lesson, Teratophilia, it's called growth, scales - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:48:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24111580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thanatopsiturvy/pseuds/Thanatopsiturvy
Summary: -----Sent to Vivec City on orders to speak to several informants regarding the damn Nerevarine business, Teldryn becomes fascinated by a calm, collected Morag Tong assassin - an Argonian named Huleeya.Teldryn's curiosity about the guild of legal murderers, as well as the Argonian himself, might end up getting the better of him.-----
Relationships: Huleeya/Male Nerevarine
Series: The 36 Lessons of Teldryn Sero: Nerevarine [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1741183
Comments: 17
Kudos: 53





	A Lesson In Patience

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you SO much [jottingprosaist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jane_potter/pseuds/jottingprosaist) for being my beta for this story. 
> 
> Monsterfuckers unite. 
> 
> \----
> 
> Honorary Title for this story:  
>  _Full Scalie Invasion_  
>  _Teldryn’s Unusual Argonian Adventures: The Cloaca-ning_  
>  _The Green Peen of the Areena_  
>  _The Lusty Argonian Assassin_
> 
> (blame FourCatProductions and banjotea, I'm innocent)

It wasn’t difficult to find Huleeya. He was the only Argonian in the Black Shalk Cornerclub. He sat at the bar, gaze unfocused, with a mug clutched in his hand. He blinked when Teldryn sat down next to him, the milk-white membrane of his secondary lid sliding across his eye in a quick snap. Otherwise he showed no sign of fear. No expression at all, really. Teldryn had come to accept that of Argonians.

“I do not want any trouble, Dunmer.”

“I’m not here to give you any. Caius sent me.”

Huleeya blinked again, angled his head towards Teldryn, to scan him up and down with one eye. “So he has.” He tipped whatever he was drinking into his mouth, giving Teldryn a glimpse of a row of jagged teeth, before setting the cup back down and pushing it towards the bartender. “About the Nerevarine Cult.”

Teldryn nodded, scooting a little closer. “Anything you could tell me, I’d–”

“What stinks!”

Across the bar, three Dunmer had just entered, each sporting the swagger of men already well into their drink. Teldryn heard Huleeya exhale beside him, a short spout of air through the slits of his nostrils.

The mer who’d just spoken waved a hand in front of his face with a grin. “It smells like filthy lizard in here!” His comrades laughed, following him towards where Teldryn and Huleeya sat.

“Friends of yours?” Teldryn asked under his breath.

“Troublesome fools.”

“They seem drunk.” Teldryn began to unsheathe his dagger, keeping it hidden beneath the bar. “Easy to take care of.”  
  
“I cannot sully the name of the Morag Tong.” Huleeya drew himself up a little straighter. “I am bound by oath.”

“Right…” _Morag Tong._ Caius had mentioned that. He returned his dagger to its sheath with a grimace.

“I don’t want to trouble Raril by fighting in his establishment. If you have a way with words, perhaps you can persuade them to go away.” Huleeya kept his hands clasped atop the bar. “I fear a confrontation may end in bloodshed, though… knowing their type. But perhaps you can speak reason into them.” Teldryn let out a tremendous sigh, clenching his jaw as the three mer rounded the bar.

“I’ll do my best.”

“Long way from the swamp, eh lizard?” the leader spoke. “Long way from a _cage._ ”

“Listen, now, we don’t want any trouble.” Teldryn rose from his seat, standing between Huleeya and the three of them.

The Dunmer took a step back, sizing him up. “Am I talking to you, fetcher?” He cocked his head to the side, his gaze unsteady in the way most drunken gazes tend to be. “No. I’m talking to the filthy lizard. So fuck off.” He placed his hand on the pommel of the dagger at his hip.

Teldryn tried for his best smile. “There’s no need for such hostilities. We’re all just here for a drink.”

“What, are you some kind of filthy lizard lover?” He poked Teldryn in the chest with two fingers. “You wanna give your little friend a big kiss?” The mer’s goonies made gagging noises that devolved into raspy laughter.

Teldryn lowered his voice. “Don’t touch me.”

“Oh?” The Dunmer twisted his palm over the dagger’s pommel. “Is that a threat, n’wah?” He placed his hand in the middle of Teldryn’s chest and gave him a light shove. Teldryn let out a strangled yelp, throwing himself backwards into the bar and knocking Huleeya’s empty mug over. It shattered against the floor. The rest of the establishment immediately jerked their attention towards the noise.

“Guards!” the bartender yelled even as an Ordinator was already barreling around the corner.

“I barely touched the fetcher!” the mer proclaimed, backing away with his hands up. Teldryn grabbed Huleeya by the wrist, pulling him towards the exit.

Once they were out in the echoing quiet of the lower waistworks, Huleeya gave Teldryn a more discerning once-over. “Interesting strategy.”

“It was either that or _actually_ bait him into punching me.” He flashed a grin. “I didn’t quite feel like getting punched.”

“Understandably.” He beckoned for Teldryn to follow him across the foyer to the opposite hall.

“Mind if I ask where we’re going?”

“My friend owns a bookstore. He’s a Khajiit. We can speak freely there.”

Jobasha’s Rare Books was tucked away in a corner of the lower waistworks. Teldryn half expected it to be a ratty little establishment but found himself pleasantly surprised. The entry was dressed with tapestries; the curving hall led them to a small room lined with shelves of books, candles, and curiosities. It was warm and inviting ― polished. Huleeya kept going, leading Teldryn down a sloping ramp to the lower level. They passed an Ordinator who whispered something mildly threatening but let them pass.

“Jobasha.”

The Khajiit owner was in the middle of sorting a shelf, sitting cross-legged on the floor surrounded by several stacks of books. His ears swiveled forward as he turned to look at them. “Huleeya? What brings you here, friend?”

“I needed a safe place to speak with my friend.” He gestured to Teldryn, who offered a slightly awkward wave by way of greeting.

Jobasha’s ear twitched. “This one is happy to provide. Make yourself comfortable.” He went back to sorting books and Teldryn let out a breath. Huleeya led him around another bookshelf into the back part of the store: Jobasha’s living quarters. He sat down at a small wooden table in the corner, motioning to the seat across from him.

“How much of Morrowind’s history do you know?”

Teldryn scratched at his neck with a shrug, easing himself into the chair. “The basics, I suppose. I haven’t lived here for a good thirty years.”

“Well, in order to understand the history of the Nerevarine cult, you must first understand the history of the Ashlanders. In the First Era...”

Huleeya had a soothing voice, which was fortunate considering he talked _a lot_. He wove a more comprehensive tale than most teachers Teldryn had encountered in his life. The man knew his history. _Man? Beast? Did Argonians have gender?_ _Focus, Teldryn._ He jotted down as much as he could into his journal, occasionally getting distracted, his mind wandering to odd places. _Did Argonians kiss? Their lips seemed too strange. What about their tails_ ― _were they prehensile like Khajiit’s?_

“That is all I can tell you, I’m afraid.”

Teldryn jolted. He scribbled down the last of what he could remember hearing before closing his journal with a snap. “Well, thank you for your help. It’s very much appreciated.”

“Here.” Huleeya slid a piece of parchment across the table. “I’ve included a write-up for Caius.” Teldryn folded the parchment and tucked it into his bag. “I’ll make sure he gets it.” He shifted to get up, then hesitated. “So… how does one go about joining the Morag Tong?”

Huleeya blinked, then let out a low raspy sound that might have been a laugh. “I do not think you are ready for that knowledge.”

Teldryn bristled. “That’s a bold judgement to pass considering we’ve known each other for less than an hour.”

“True.” Huleeya nodded. “But I can see it in your eyes.” He leaned forward, lips curling up around his jagged teeth as he spoke. “Your desire for blood is born out of the ghosts of your past. Cleanse your own house before moving into another.”

Teldryn ground his teeth together but forced his lips into a smile. “Thanks for the advice.”

\----

Teldryn spent the following few days tracking down Caius’s other informants throughout Vivec, which involved bribing a Census and Excise agent, insulting a Temple priest, getting terribly lost, and accidentally stumbling into a Daedric shrine in the underworks of the St. Olms canton. He recorded all the information that was given to him as faithfully as he could, scribbling hastily into his ragged journal as his contacts spoke, but he remained distracted.

What made Huleeya think he wasn’t worthy enough to join the Morag Tong?

Desire for blood? Teldryn was as reformed as he was ever going to get. Of course he’d done some morally ambiguous things in his past, but who hadn’t? He was turning over a new leaf. Well– sort of…

The point was, he was no bloodthirsty nix-hound. He’d killed before — out of necessity — and he had no doubt he'd have to kill again. It would be nice to have the aid of legality on his side. And considering how much you had to shill out to even _hire_ the Morag Tong, there was no doubt that their agents made ridiculous amounts of money. Teldryn didn’t desire blood, he desired _coin_.

That desire was what drove him back to the Black Shalk Cornerclub a few days later, but he was disappointed to find it devoid of Argonians. The bartender gave him a nervous look as he approached.

“I don’t want any more trouble out of you.”

“You won’t get any,” Teldryn assured with a charming smile. “I’m looking for Huleeya.”

The bartender furrowed his brow. “You should go back to wherever you came from and leave the poor creature alone. He deals with enough as it is.”

Teldryn sighed, sitting down. “What’s your name, sera?”

The bartender set down the mug he’d been wiping. “Raril Giral.”

“Well, Raril, I can assure you I have no ill will towards our mutual friend. On my honor. And, if you don’t mind, I’d love a glass of mazte.”

Raril sighed and walked over to the shelf on the far wall, grabbing a clean glass and a bottle. “He usually shows up in the evenings, unless he’s out on a writ. If you wait around you might catch him.” The mazte frothed in the green glass as Raril poured. He set it in front of Teldryn with a stern look. “Five drakes.”

Teldryn handed over the coin and settled in for the wait.  
  


A few hours later, Teldryn was two bottles of mazte deep and feeling a bit woozy. He should have ordered something to eat, but instead he had ordered more booze, too lost in thought to use his better judgement. During his wait he’d re-read all the information he’d received from the informants. This, in turn, got him thinking a bit too hard about what the damn Temple priestess had said to him.

It had been stupid of him to mention his dreams in the first place. _Soul-sickness_ , she had said. What an utter crock of shit. Back in Cyrodiil he would have been given a strong tonic and told to get some fresh air, maybe see a healer, talk to a mage. But of course here in his own blessed homeland there was little by way of sense or sympathy. In their eyes he was rotting from the inside out.

He knocked back another glass of mazte, head spinning. He should slow down if he wanted to be coherent by the time Huleeya showed up. Another bottle and he might even try to take the Argonian to bed. He laughed under his breath at that. That, at least, would be a proper ‘fuck you’ to this whole damn country. He’d been called nothing but “outlander” for the past month and it was starting to wear him down. There was a part of him that would rather remain unassociated with his homeland. A _large_ part of him. Partially, his general dislike for Morrowind was the reason he left in the first place. But the stubborn, nationalistic Dunmer that still lived deep in his veins rebelled, and every time someone called him an _n’wah_ , he felt a small piece of himself being chipped away.

He didn’t know how much time had passed, but Huleeya clearly wasn’t coming. He somberly paid his tab and dragged himself towards the exit, then sluggishly trudged out of the lower waistworks feeling drunk and sorry for himself. The balcony of the Foreign Quarter canton was empty; Teldryn leaned up against the railing, willing himself not to be sick. The waterway rippled with starlight far below as a gondola passed beneath one of the arching bridges. No matter where he found himself in life, Teldryn perpetually felt like an outsider.

“Hey, _n’wah_!”

Teldryn sighed, turning around. A fist immediately connected with his stomach. He grunted and doubled over, bile rising in the back of his throat. A hand fisted his hair and yanked him upright only for a set of knuckles to collide with his jaw. His vision tunneled, and a sharp pain in his wrist was the only reason he knew he’d fallen over. A swift kick to his ribs and Teldryn finally cried out.

“Hey!”

All at once his attackers were gone. Teldryn blinked rapidly, looking up in time to see them running around the corner with an Ordinator chasing after them. Garishly colored clothes, ridiculous haircuts — definitely the Dunmer who had given Huleeya trouble the other night. He groaned, rolling onto his side, determined not to be sick. Slowly, favoring his sore wrist, he sat up and scooted backwards to lean against the balcony wall. He closed his eyes, taking long, deep breaths through his nose to quell the nausea that threatened to rise. The left side of his face was on fire and each breath had the familiar, stabbing pain of a cracked rib.

“Move along, Outlander.” The Ordinator was back, staring down from behind his golden mask. “Can’t rest here.”

_Golden mask._

  
Teldryn closed his eyes, waving the Ordinator away as he pushed off his knees to stand. He knew better than to fuck around with one of them. But he didn’t know where to go. He wandered down the sloping tunnel of the canton, feeling aimless and even more sorry for himself. He didn’t want to hike his arse back up into the waitworks and nestle into a bed with the Fighter’s Guild. He felt too bitter and discouraged to show his face back there. Instead, he found himself wandering through the Redoran canton, eventually crossing the bridge over to the Arena.

It was the only lead he had concerning the Morag Tong. Someone had mentioned something about a guy named Eno Hlaalu and some secret underground layer under the Arena. Teldryn paused, wiping his mouth on his arm. It was probably all guar shit. He knew he needed to let it go ― that he should catch the next strider back to Balmora and put it all behind him. For now he just needed to find a place to sleep.

Eventually, he made his way into the canalworks. They were notoriously less patrolled and usually a homeless, roguish mer like himself could easily find a nook to squeeze into for a night. He passed an Ordinator on the stairs and mentally cursed.

“We’re watching you…” he rasped.

Teldryn gave him a thin smile and a salute, continuing down the stairs. The cool, damp air felt good against the burning skin of his sore face ― the spray of mist and the roar of the cascading water. He wandered to the end of the hall and pushed through the only door. The inner hallway was empty and quiet, and had curiosity not gotten the better of him, Teldryn could have made a bed there. But he pushed forward. Another door led to a storage room packed to the brim with barrels and crates. Teldryn couldn’t help but laugh at his luck.

His laugh quickly transformed into a yelp as a massive rat jumped at him from between the barrels. Its sharp little teeth sunk into his forearm before Teldryn could unsheathe his dagger. He skewered it a moment too late. Panting, he checked the rest of the room for any more rats and found none. There were three other doors that he now didn’t feel like fucking with, and he figured there was mostly likely only one entrance. With the last of his strength, he pushed two crates in front of the door he’d just come through, guaranteeing him at least one night of undisturbed sleep.

From assassins, at least.

Maybe not from his own dreams.

He hissed and prodded at the wound on his forearm. Blood had already darkened his sleeve into a ruddy brown, the fabric clinging wetly to his skin. He dug through his satchel only to find that he was fresh out of healing tonics. Maybe if he just got some sleep…

The word itself rolled through his body like a spell ― _sleep._ Like a siren song. Teldryn took a staggering step backwards, bumping against the wall and sliding down it. The edges of his vision tunneled, the room going black. Sleep would heal him. He just needed sleep.  
  


Teldryn awoke to someone shaking him.

Panicked, he knocked the hand away and scrambled for his dagger. His arm throbbed as he brandished the blade, unable to vocalize outside of a threatening bark.

“Teldryn. Calm yourself.” It was Huleeya. He was standing over Teldryn, head tilted with one eye scanning him up and down. “What are you doing down here?”

Teldryn sheathed his dagger with a grimace, breathing heavily. “Sleeping.”

“You’re injured.”

Teldryn shrugged, disoriented, half-wondering if he was still dreaming. “I’ve had worse.”

Huleeya made a strange trilling noise, bending to one knee. “Can you stand?”

Teldryn shifted forward, grunting. “Might need a little help.”

Huleeya hoisted Teldryn to his feet and lead him across the room to one of the other doors. He opened it to reveal a makeshift bedroom, musty with the smell of disuse. Between several tables pushed against the far wall and a cluster of wooden chairs lay a sleeping mat, some old cutlery, and a few candles.

“How’d you know this was here? Do you live down here?”

Huleeya didn’t answer, instead motioning for Teldryn to lie down on the mat, which he did, feeling obedient in his exhaustion. Huleeya knelt beside him, taking a silver ring from one of his slender, scaled fingers. He slid it onto one of Teldryn’s.

“I’m flattered, but don’t you think we’re moving a little fast?” Teldryn’s words were slurred, ruining the effect of his joke. A tingle of magicka spread from his hand all the way down his arm.

“It will help heal you,” Huleeya explained.

Teldryn chuckled hoarsely. “I would have said yes…”

“Rest now, Teldryn Sero.” Huleeya placed his hand against Teldryn’s forehead. His skin was cool and soft, like the underbelly of a snake. Teldryn sighed, his eyes fluttering closed, and darkness immediately took him.

\---

Teldryn snapped awake, his entire body jolting. The claws of his dream were still embedded in his mind, raking through his body before they slowly uncurled, releasing him. His head throbbed, as did his forearm and his ribs. He coughed, rolling onto his uninjured side. Then he jolted again and cursed, covering his face in embarrassment from his strong reaction. Huleeya sat in one of the wooden chairs, one leg crossed over the other, an open book perched on his thigh.

“Watching me sleep?” Teldryn asked through his fingers.  
  
“Making sure you healed.”

Teldryn dropped his hands and looked down at his arm. His bloodied sleeve had been cut away, a fresh bandage wrapped around his forearm. “Thanks.”  
  
“There’s also water.”

Now _that_ was what Teldryn wanted to hear. He sat up and grabbed the jug beside him. It was the best thing he’d ever tasted and he barely breathed between gulps. He finally came up for air, gasping and panting, wiping his mouth on the back of his uninjured arm.

Huleeya was still staring at him. “What happened?” he finally asked, closing his book and setting it on the ground.

Teldryn smiled. “Your friends from the other night caught up with me.” He took a reasonable sip of water this time. “I suppose they were looking for payback.” “I’m sorry.”

Teldryn waved the apology off. “And then this.” He held up his right arm. “Bloody rat.”

Huleeya trilled, his hands folded in his lap. “And why were you down here?”

Teldryn crossed his legs, gingerly beginning to stretch into his injured side. It was nowhere near as sore as it had been “Well, if I’m honest, when I’m drunk and angry I tend to wander.”

“This wasn’t intentional?”

“Intentionally try to wander intoan old storage room?” Teldryn laughed. “I just can’t believe you found me, considering I was looking for you. I waited at Black Shalk for hours. Then, once I left, that’s when those fetchers jumped me. The fact that I ended up down here, with you, is just dumb luck.”

“Luck…” Huleeya repeated. “Why were you looking for me?”

“I…” Teldryn felt strangely foolish admitting it. “I wanted to ask about the Morag Tong again. I supposed I don’t really like being told ‘no’.” He laughed at his own expense hoping that Huleeya wouldn’t.

Huleeya’s mouth twitched into something resembling a smile. The soft skin around his eyes folded, making him look a little less alien. “Yes. I do believe luck has drawn you here. Mephala weaves an intentional web. You have followed her threads. Our fates are entangled.”

“Does this mean you’ll tell me more about the Morag Tong then?” Teldryn tried to disguise his excitement by leaning back against his hands, affecting a roguish smirk. “Or is it just your way of saying you find me charming?”

Huleeya rasped out a laugh, his smile growing. “I admit that you’ve grown on me. Perhaps like a fungus…”

“Native to Morrowind,” Teldryn pointed out.

This earned another laugh. Each one felt like a tiny victory: the stoic assassin, laughing at his terrible jokes. Not to mention he had a strange laugh. Teldryn realized that the rasping her heard was actually more of a low, deep trill, almost mechanical sounding.

“Truly, though.” He gave Huleeya one of his softer smiles. “Thank you for helping me out. I’m in your debt.”

“Not at all. If anything, I owed you for helping me. So consider us even.”

“Oh, don’t be like that.” Teldryn grinned and leaned forward. “Surely you’d leap at the opportunity to have a handsome Dunmer in your debt.”

“Are you considered handsome?” Huleeya cocked his head to the side, giving Teldryn yet another of his peculiar once-overs. “I can never tell with elves.”

Teldryn clasped a hand over his heart, recoiling dramatically. “Can never tell–? Serjo, you are in the company of one of Morrowind’s finest. I’ll ruin you for other elves.”

“Ruin me?” Huleeya laughed again, uncrossing his legs. “Odd phrasing, there.”

Feeling emboldened by the banter, Teldryn shifted onto his knees, bridging the small gap between them to place his hands on Huleeya’s thighs. “There are some forms of debts I’m more comfortable fulfilling than others.” He let his hands slide just a bit higher, catching Huleeya’s eye and leaving no room for interpretation.

“Is this how you plan to get into the Morag Tong?”  
  


Teldryn jerked his hands away and sat back on his heels. The comment stung more than he expected, though Huleeya’s tone was light and teasing. Did he really come off as the type? Tedryn frowned and crossed his arms. “Make no mistake, I’ve fucked my way out of a good many situations in my life, but I make a point not to fuck my way _into_ places.” He softened his expression, uncrossing his arms. “I find you interesting. You collect rare books. You’re a scholar, a historian. You know more about Morrowind than I do.” He inclined his head. “ _And_ you’re a legal assassin. These are all qualities I find attractive in a person.”

“I’m also Argonian.”

“I did notice that,” Teldryn agreed.

Huleeya chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “You’ve been with an Argonian before, then?”

“No.” Teldryn wet his lips, a flush rising up his neck. “Have you been with an elf?”

“Yes.”

Teldryn leaned forward as if drawn magnetically, hazarding a hand on Huleeya’s knee again. “Was it a pleasant experience?”

Huleeya shrugged with a lopsided smile. “It could be worth repeating.”

That seemed enough like the permission Teldryn was looking for. He pushed up onto his knees, moving between Huleeya’s legs. Tentatively, he raised his hand and slid his fingertips along the side of Huleeya’s neck. The scales there were cool and slick, tougher than Teldryn expected. He brushed his thumb across Huleeya’s throat and found the skin there scaleless and softer. He jumped when Huleeya made a noise, a low trill that vibrated through Teldryn’s hand.

“Is this alright?” he asked nervously.

Huleeya nodded. He leaned forward and brushed his lips across Teldryn’s jaw, down his neck. Teldryn closed his eyes and let out a shuddering exhale when cool, slender fingers trailed up his arms, around the back of his neck, threading through his hair. He tipped his chin up, baring his throat, lips parting.

Huleeya spoke against his skin: “We do not kiss in the way the soft races do.”

“Makes sense,” Teldryn rasped, then groaned as Huleeya trailed his fingers beneath the collar of Teldryn’s shirt, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

Something shifted in his periphery and he snapped to look. It was Huleeya’s tail. Teldryn swallowed. He’d been with Khajiit before, but they had always just seemed more like fuzzy elves — albeit with mildly threatening cocks. This already felt much different.

“Are you sure you’d like to do this?” Huleeya pulled back; his expressionless mask had returned. He gave Teldryn a critical look.

“Yeah,” Teldryn breathed, leaning forward to press his lips to Huleeya’s throat. “I’d _really_ like to.” He hadn’t gotten laid since the damn wood elf in Seyda Neen. He was already painfully hard. There was no way he was backing down. He mouthed his way down the long column of Huleeya’s neck, eager to convey his sincerity, fumbling with the buckles of his armor — anything to feel more of his body.

Huleeya put a hand over his. “You should undress.”

Teldryn looked up. “I should?”

“And move onto the mat.”

Teldryn laughed, sitting back and giving a sloppy salute. “Yes, serjo.”  
  


He couldn’t tear his eyes away as Huleeya stood to undress. Each piece of clothing he shed revealed a mosaic of multicolored scales, shimmering and slick in the candlelight. His body was long and lean, with a thin waist and remarkably broad shoulders, hardened muscle and sharp angles. His tail was nearly as long as his legs, fading from pale to dark green and ending with a vibrantly red tip that mirrored the crest on his head. When he lowered himself onto the mat, Teldryn’s hands were anywhere they could reach, eager to touch and feel and experience. There was a soft whirring coming from Huleeya’s chest, not quite a purr. Teldryn ran his tongue along the underside of Huleeya’s jaw and the sound intensified.

“Tell me what feels good,” Teldryn murmured. “I want to learn.” He sucked in a breath when Huleeya’s tail slid across his ankle ― curled around his foot.

“You seem intuitive.” Huleeya’s voice had a low clicking to it now, and the whirr in his chest pulsed with his breath. “But here…” He ran a cool hand under Teldryn’s jaw, across his throat. “Where the scales are thin…” He continued down, brushing a thumb over Teldryn’s nipple. It hardened at the touch. He spread his fingers across Teldryn’s sides, over his ribs. “Where we are most vulnerable.” Fingers dipped into the crease at Teldryn’s hip, tracing the connection where his thigh met his groin. Teldryn rolled up into the touch, his dick throbbing against his stomach.

“Oblivion take me,” he mumbled, then let out a hoarse shout when Huleeya grabbed his cock, giving it a few blessed strokes before his hand moved on again. Teldryn laughed and rolled them over, well aware that Huleeya was letting him take the lead.

Huleeya spread himself out along the bed mat, fully extending his legs and arching into a stretch. Teldryn went to straddle him, then noticed that… Huleeya had no dick.

“Um…”

“You have to coax it out,” he said, as if reading Teldryn’s mind.

“So he’s shy?” Teldryn asked with a smirk.

Huleeya’s laugh whirred and clicked in his throat. He reached down between his legs to run his finger along a slit in his scales. Almost immediately, the slit contracted and relaxed, and a small, pink head emerged, shiny-slick.

“Come on out. Don’t be shy.” Teldryn ran his thumb across the slit, finding it wet beneath, and circled around the head. It slid out more and Huleeya gasped through a laugh.

“Please don’t talk to it like a pet.”

“Why not?” Teldryn teased. He pressed his fingers into the soft skin around the slit and more of Huleeya’s cock slid out.

And kept sliding out.

“Oh…” It was bigger than Teldryn had been expecting. And it _tapered_ , getting wider and wider as it went. Huleeya reached down, wrapping his fist around it with a low hiss. His stomach muscles flexed, and then, impossibly, yet _more_ cock emerged, slit stretching wide around the thick base.

Teldryn licked his lips, his stomach fluttering nervously. He wanted to know… _Curiosity killed the Khajiit_ , a small voice reminded him ― a sing-song taunt in the back of his mind. “But satisfaction brought him back,” Teldryn murmured under his breath.

“Pardon?” Huleeya lifted his head.

“I want you to fuck me.”

This earned him a cautious stare. “Are you certain?”

“Yes,” Teldryn lied, swinging his leg over Huleeya’s hips, running his hands along his chest. “Do I need to get some oil?”

Huleeya was still eyeing him, uncertainty etched across his features. The whirring had stopped. “Perhaps just in case. I lubricate naturally, though.”

“That’s convenient.” Teldryn flashed a grin that was more confident than he felt. _It’s a challenge_ , he told himself as he dug through his pack. A conquest, of sorts. A test. _A test of what?_ _Endurance_ , he answered, procuring the small bottle of oil and returning to straddle Huleeya’s hips again. He took the long, slick cock into his hand, giving it an experimental pump. Huleeya’s eyes fluttered closed and the whirring in his chest slowly returned. Teldryn leaned forward and lined the tip up with his entrance. Then, slowly, he began to sink down. The initial feeling of being filled was a sweet relief he hadn’t realized he’d missed. He exhaled and paused, allowing himself to adjust. Huleeya ran his cool hands up Teldryn’s thighs in a soothing motion, thumbing across his hip bones. Teldryn sunk down a little further with a groan.

“Take it slow,” Huleeya suggested. “You have nothing to prove.”

Teldryn looked up sharply. Could he actually read his mind? The coincidences were becoming alarming. Or perhaps he really was just that easy to read. He’d have to work on that…

Huleeya beckoned Teldryn forward. “Come here.” Teldryn obeyed without a second thought, bracing his hands against Huleeya’s shoulders and letting out a soft breath. Gently, he was pulled down for a kiss ― an approximation of a kiss. Huleeya’s lips didn’t move, but the action was so familiar and comforting that Teldryn relaxed, then groaned as Huleeya slid in a little more. He spread his knees wider, hooked his hands beneath Huleeya’s upper back; he pressed his face into the side of his neck, placing kisses along the scales. He felt Huleeya shift, bending his knees, curling his hips up ever so slightly, stretching Teldryn a little bit more.

“Fuck…” Teldryn breathed, sliding his hands up and gripping Huleeya’s shoulders. “More.”

“Patience,” Huleeya rumbled. He ran a hand through Teldryn’s hair. “You’re doing well.”

He bit gently at Huleeya’s neck. “Do I feel good?”

“Yes…” The ‘s’ was drawn out in a hiss. Huleeya pulled out a little, only to thrust back in. Teldryn groaned against scaleless skin, rocking back slightly to meet the thrust. A little more. _More_. It became a game of push and pull ― easing forward and pulling away, rolling like the tide. Time blurred, became irrelevant as all of Teldryn’s focus narrowed to opening, relaxing, receiving. His thighs were shaking, his breath coming in shallow puffs, dampening the skin beneath his lips.

He felt his arse connect with Huleeya’s hips and let out a long, low moan, pushing to sit up straight. Sinking down the few final centimeters drove the air from his lungs ― sudden and intense, but not unpleasant. He could finally relax. It was _in._

“Fuck.” Teldryn ran a hand over his own stomach, half expecting to be able to feel Huleeya inside him, then reached behind himself to feel where he was stretched wide around the thick base. He lifted up slightly, then back down, his eyes fluttering. It was intense. So good ― wrapped around Huleeya’s cock like an ornament. He managed to rise and sink a few more times, his thighs still shaking wildly from the prolonged strain.

“Would you like to lie down?” Huleeya offered in a low rasp.

“Yeah…” Teldryn took a deep breath through his nose, stilling his motions. “Just give me another moment.”

“No rush.” Huleeya ran his hands up Teldryn’s sides, thumbs circling both his nipples. His lip twitched in amusement as they hardened in response. Teldryn leaned forward, slowly beginning to ease himself back off Huleeya’s cock. It slid free with ease and he was left feeling empty. All that work and he’d have to do it _again._

Huleeya shifted out from beneath him but Teldryn remained on his hands and knees, arse in the air.

Huleeya ran a hand over his back. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Apparently he was only able to speak in monosyllabic words. He barely recognized his own voice ― an octave lower than usual, forced out by something raw and hungry. He bit his lower lip when Huleeya began to breach him again, then dropped his mouth open in a silent cry. The stretch was still intense, but easier. He dug his fingers into the bed mat when those hips connected with his arse again, squeezed his eyes shut. They rocked together, experimentally. Even a tiny movement was immense. The details of the room around Teldryn became fuzzy. His nerves were on fire. He didn’t dare touch his cock ― the very idea seemed incomprehensible. He’d combust.

Huleeya’s cool hands were on his hips. One trailed up his spine, curved around his shoulder― gripped. He began to thrust.  
  


Teldryn let go.

  
He opened his mouth and let whatever noises were still inside him pour out as he was fucked ― impaled. His cock hung rigid between his spread knees, bobbing with the force of the thrusts. They were shallow but fast, Huleeya’s hips slapping against Teldryn’s arse in a dizzying staccato. One hand dug into the meat of Teldryn’s hip, the other’s fingers pressed into his collarbone, and he found himself rhythmically being pushed away and pulled back, moved like a toy. He let his head loll forward, hanging limply between his shoulders, swaying in time with the pounding rhythm.

Disjointed sensation crackled through his body, all-consuming, swelling to an impossible size. He was filled to the brim. Sweat beaded along the centerline of his back, dampened his neck. Teldryn’s entire body felt too tight, hard and unripe, something wretched and sweet swelling in the core of his being. Then all at once the pressure released and Teldryn came with a long, desperate cry, elbows buckling, his untouched cock leaking onto the bed mat, gush after gush.

Huleeya continued to fuck into him until Teldryn was grinding his teeth, shoving back and grunting filthy encouragements punctuated with harsh curses, his dick still dribbling cum. The drag of the thick cock inside him had become vivid and alive, too much too fast too long, overstimulation pulsing through him with each slap of skin on skin, and it was all he could do to not wrench free and crawl away. It was a miracle when the whirring purr-like noise reached a crescendo and Huleeya doubled over, wrapping his arms around Teldryn’s chest and shoving in all the way, forcing one final ragged cry from Teldryn as he his hips twitched forward in the most minute movements, spilling into him.

Huleeya pulled out almost immediately and Teldryn gasped in surprise, whimpering as he clenched and warm seed gushed out of him. A cool hand smoothed across his back.

“Are you all right?” Huleeya asked breathlessly.

Teldryn remained rigid, still on his hands and knees. “We made a mess of your bed.”

“This isn’t my bed.”

Teldryn jerked to look over his shoulder, eyes wide. “Who the fuck’s bed did we just fuck on then!?” Huleeya shrugged with a clicking laugh. After a moment, Teldryn laughed as well, feeling delirious. He let himself be pulled into Huleeya’s lap as the Argonian flipped the bed mat over to the unsullied side. His legs were still shaking as and his arse was _sore_ , but he’d survived. Not to mention he’d come without having his cock touched. That was new… worth revisiting in the future.

The _distant_ future.

Teldryn stretched himself out along Huleeya’s side, draping one leg across his. His cool scales felt like a balm against Teldryn’s overheated skin. They lay silent for a long moment, Huleeya trailing his hand between Teldryn’s shoulders.

“Thanks,” Teldryn said after another moment.

Huleeya hummed in response, carding his fingers through Teldryn’s hair. “You’ll hate me for what I’m about to say.”

Teldryn chuckled, shifting to press a kiss to the center of his chest. “You still don’t think I’m ready.”

Huleeya gave him a sympathetic look ― as it turned out, Argonians were quite expressive. Teldryn, apparently, had just never taken the time to notice.

“Honestly,” Teldryn began, stretching his arms up over his head with a groan, “I’m not gonna fight you on it this time.”

“Change of heart?”

Teldryn glanced up at him with a sheepish smile. “Sometimes I bite off more than I can chew.”

“You’re sure you’re alright?” Huleeya ran a thumb over Teldryn’s cheek, and somehow the small action was almost too intimate. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“Oh, I’ll be sore for a day or so.” Teldryn chuckled. “The strider back to Balmora might be a bit uncomfortable. But no, you didn’t hurt me.” He pushed up on one forearm and reached out to brush his fingers over Huleeya’s eyebrow ridge. He paused, chewing the inside of his cheek. “May I ask you about something? As a historian?”

“Of course.”

“I’ve been having these… disturbing dreams.” Teldryn tried to recount them the best he could, but the more he spoke, the more foolish he felt for bringing it up at all. Huleeya just listened silently, one hand occasionally sweeping up and down Teldryn’s spine.

“I’m sorry,” he said after Teldryn finished. “They sound terrible. But I don’t know what to tell you.”

“Right…” Teldryn lay his head against Huleeya’s chest with a loud sigh.

“In the old country, they set great store by dreams and omens. But I’m a historian, as you said. Not a mystic. An educated creature. Dreams probably mean nothing. They are just… fancies. Imagination. Don’t trouble yourself too deeply over them.”

Teldryn took a deep breath and watched the flames of the candles beside them flicker. “You’re probably right.”

\----

Almost a month passed before Teldryn had any reason to return to Vivec: running more errands for the Fighter’s Guild, of course. It was easy enough, and he didn’t even have to get his hands dirty. A few mild threats and the target agreed to leave well enough alone. The job was barely worth the two hundred drakes it promised upon his return, but he was climbing the guild ladder relatively quickly. Hopefully they’d have more interesting jobs for him soon. That, or maybe Caius would finally stop sending him on little fetch missions and give Teldryn more insight into what exactly was going on with all this Nerevarine cult business. Regardless, Teldryn was content to do what he was told, make enough coin to scrape by, and continue to take things one day at a time.

The Black Shalk was relatively empty when he pushed through the door. The bartender gave him a look that said he vaguely remembered his face.

“Two fingers of sujamma.” Teldryn tossed the coin onto the counter as he sat down at the stool.

“What brings you back to Vivec?”

“Business.”

The bartender — Raril, if Teldryn was remembering correctly — shrugged and left the cup of sujamma on the bar before walking away. Teldryn knocked back half of it and shuddered as it burned its way down his throat.

“Teldryn Sero.”

Teldryn looked over his shoulder. He cracked a grin. “Son of a netch.”

Huleeya chuckled, sliding up to the bar beside him. “I didn’t expect to see you back here so soon.”

“Soon?” Teldryn knocked back the rest of the sujamma, setting the cup down a little harder than he meant to. “It’s almost been a month. I was itching to come back here. See some familiar faces. Especially after I had to drag my arse all the way to Vas and back.”

“Vas?” Huleeya tilted his head with a curious look.

“Yep.” Teldryn smirked. “Cleared out a whole den of necromancers.”

“Impressive.” He motioned to Raril with two fingers and Teldryn soon found a glass of mazte placed before him. “What other adventures have found you?”

They chatted amicably for almost an hour, slowly sipping their drinks and generally enjoying each other’s company. Once the glasses were drained, Huleeya stood.

“Are you free for the evening?”

Teldryn quirked a brow, giving him an obvious up-and-down. “Looking for a repeat encounter?”

Huleeya chuckled but didn’t clarify.

Teldryn nodded with a smirk. “Yeah, I’m free.”

  
They made their way towards the Arena canton, still chatting. When Huleeya led Teldryn down into the canalworks, Teldryn’s stomach fluttered nervously. Maybe he really was looking for another fuck.

“I feel bad for whoever found our mess last time we were down here,” Teldryn joked.

“I cleaned up the next day.”

Teldryn clapped him on the shoulder. “You’re so honorable.”

They pushed into the old storage room and Teldryn licked his lips, heart beating a little faster.

Instead of moving towards the makeshift bedroom, though, Huleeya went to the door on the opposite wall. Teldryn remained silent as Huleeya dismantled the trap on the door with ease and pushed inside. It was another small storage closet lined with more crates and barrels. In the corner was a small trap door, almost invisible to anyone who didn’t know what to look for — or anyone not suddenly as curious as Teldryn.

“What...?” Teldryn cut himself off, watching curiously as Huleeya bent down to unlock the trap door. He pulled it open and motioned for Teldryn to go down first.

“I’m not on one of your writs, am I?”

This got Huleeya to laugh. “If you were, you’d already be dead.”

Teldryn wasn’t exactly comforted, but he stepped through the trap door regardless, lowering himself down the ladder. Wherever they were, it was startlingly normal: a standard hallway, well-lit with torches. He waited for Huleeya to descend, feeling… not necessarily nervous so much as strongly preferring not to lead the way. The hallway made a sharp u-turn, they stepped up a small flight of stairs, and the room opened up into a common area. Shelves and trunks, tables and chairs. And other people. Their gazes jerked up as the two of them entered.

Huleeya beckoned him forward, so Teldryn obliged, keeping his eyes to the ground. _Left, right, right, right…_ Teldryn kept a mental track of their turns, his gaze focused on Huleeya’s tail.

“Grandmaster,” Huleeya said, coming to a stop, and Teldryn looked up abruptly. They were in an office. Huleeya had addressed an older Dunmer who sat at a desk. He was in the midst of pouring hot, blood-red wax onto a piece of parchment, its curl held flat by his other gloved hand.

“This is Teldryn Sero.” Huleeya continued. “The one I told you about.”

“Thank you, Thrall Huleeya.” The Dunmer pressed a stamp into the wax. He looked up, catching Teldryn’s eye before pushing away from the desk. He stood and turned to face them, hands clasped behind his back, radiating a calm, collected ease.

“My name is Eno Hlaalu. It is my understanding that you wish to join the Morag Tong?”


End file.
